Hoo Boy! My guardian angel was working double time today. I was almost hit head-on by a crazy woman on the wrong side of the road, zipping along like nothing was the matter. I swerved out of her way and managed to avoid hitting any other folks trying to do the same … all this with the woman speeding along, unmoved by what was happening as a result of her carelessness or stupidity or who-knows-what. I had to pull over and compose myself. And give thanks.
You’re probably familiar with this picture of the guardian angel:
I had a picture like this in my bedroom when I was a kid, and in my mind, that’s what guardian angels looked like. And then I got too big for my britches and discarded the notion that I could have a guardian angel at all. It was that stupid period of adolescence when I knew everything, and my guardian angel had to pay for it by chasing stupid move after stupid move.
My guardian, however, has been a noble angel, and present in my life particularly when I was least aware and least likely to believe or appreciate the presence of a messenger of God sent expressly to watch over me. My guardian angel has stood by, perhaps keeping me from crossing the brink of real endangerment.
Like just about every other aspect of my faith, it took becoming a mother for me to appreciate the richness of our faith’s teachings, and more importantly, to open my heart to the Truths inherent in those teachings. Suddenly, I had a real interest in guardian angels…I sought the comfort of knowing that my children were not alone when they were not with me.
I didn’t start talking to my guardian angel until I had started talking to the guardian angels of my children. I know, it sounds a little silly, doesn’t it? Well, I told you I was a little slow.
I admit that I felt a little awkward and even silly at first. In fact, to help me reconcile myself to these conversations, I imagined my guardian angel as only I could: as a cynical and comical alter ego of myself named Madge.
Oh, I know, angels are spirits without substance, and it’s ridiculous to imagine that my angel could sound like a 3-pack-a-day smoker, wielding a cup of coffee in one hand, and a cigarette in the other, but there you have it. The image helped me to relate.
One day (not too soon, Madge, keep up the good work) I hope to see and experience my guardian angel and be able to apologize for all the crazy and offensive things I’ve done. I will especially say thank you for not abandoning me.
Until then, I’ll continue to say the simple little prayer I learned so long ago:
Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God’s love commits me here; ever this day be at my side to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen.
